


And They Were Soulmates...

by cathybrokeit12



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apostates (Dragon Age), Bittersweet, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Mages, Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Phylactery, The Gallows, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-04-14 22:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybrokeit12/pseuds/cathybrokeit12
Summary: In a world where soulmates can't hurt each other, a mage and templar realize they are made for each other in the middle of Kirkwall's worst moments.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jirelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jirelle/gifts), [AnnoraRutherford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnoraRutherford/gifts).



> Thanks to Jirelle for the prompt and AnnoraRutherford for your tireless editing! <3

_Gallows Courtyard, Kirkwall 9:32 Dragon_

 

Lena yanked against the gauntlet shackling her wrist, but the steel was as cold and unyielding as it had been when it dragged her from her up from the twisting corridors of Darktown to Kirkwall's Gallows.

“Keep that up and you’ll get worse girl,” the templar snarled above her. His saliva peppered her skin.

She kept her eyes on the sheen of his pommel, not 6 inches from her face. Twenty six identical grips gleamed in their scabbards throughout the courtyard. The spittle dried as she curled her free hand into her skirt, pushing down her revulsion. She was a rabbit in a wolves den, trapped even without her foot in the snare.

The templar holding her wrist tore at her sleeve, exposing her flesh past her elbow. She clenched her fist instinctively, in spite of her effort to remain docile for fear of further abuse. The templar splayed her hand, bending her fingers backwards.  ‘ _I am alive_ ,’ she bit her tongue and tasted blood.

“Resisting?” The templar sneered. Her wrist popped and a spark of pain shot through her arm as he crushed it in his grip. “You’re lucky you even get this chance. It’s bad enough you hid all these years under our noses. If I had it my way, we’d turn every apostate tranquil the second we catch them. You can thank Thrask and the other spineless fools for this leniency.”

He leant closer, moustache brushing her ear. The prickling bristles and hot, moist breath sent sick shivers through her core. She held her breath and fought her body’s pleas to flinch away. Her stomach rolled. “We’ll see how long you last, apostate” the soft malevolence in the knight’s voice sent chills rushing over her skin. He smiled at the raising gooseflesh and Lena broke, blinking dark drops of salt water onto the stone.

“Get over here Hugh, we haven’t got all day,” the knight barked.  

“Ser,” a recruit broke from the wall and trotted over, sword rippling the folds of his skirt.

Lena’s heart beat against her ribs. She bit her tongue to stop the cry creeping up the back of her throat and ground her sore knees deeper against the rough bite of the granite. ‘ _I am alive_ ,’ the pain told her.

The recruit held up a knife. Lena bit down harder, willing the pain to override her panic as adrenaline rushed through her paralyzed body. ‘ _I am alive_.’

She willed herself not to shake as the recruit stepped forward, placing his boots over the marks of her tears. She glared at her muddled reflection in their polished surface. ‘ _I am alive_ ,’ she told the despair in her eyes.

The day was overcast, hot and muggy even for Kirkwall. Sweat soaked through her clothes, but fear sent frost creeping into her bones. She shivered. Every hair on her body stood on end as she waited for for whatever it was they had planned for her. She flinched at the first touch of metal to her palm and closed her eyes. The templar rewarded her with another pop of her bruising wrist and a bolt of agony lanced down her outstretched arm.

A scraping pressure crossed her palm, as if the recruit was testing her skin with his fingernail. It happened once, twice more, then nothing. Sweat pooled on her skin as she stared at the recruit’s boots. She'd always thought she would be brave, but she couldn’t face what was coming.

“Ser,” the recruit spoke. “Ser Alrik, I-It wont-”

The elder templar pulled her unmarked hand to his face. “You brought a dull knife?” he roared to the courtyard.  “The Knight-Commander will not stand for this. You’re a shame to the uniform! Equipment _must_ be cared for, a man is only as strong as his shield.”

Lena cried out as he jerked her arm forward, throwing her off balance. She caught herself with her free hand on the smooth pavestone, forced to bow before the standing crowd. Fire raced down her legs and into her cheeks as her blood flowed into her numb limbs. Her heart galloped as terror warred with pride, muscles spasming with locked tension.

‘ _I am alive_ ,’ she grit her teeth, her jaw and temples throbbing. Her skin prickled with cold sweat.

“Take this,” Ser Alrik barked, shaking her proffered arm at the recruit. “I’ll do it myself. Too lazy or just squeamish, I don’t care. I don’t have time to waste on your incompetence.”

The hands that grasped her raised arm were surprisingly gentle. “I don-” the recruit protested.

“Just hold her still!” Alrik growled as he released his stranglehold of her wrist. “Andraste’s ass, do I have to do everything myself?”

Lena pulled back, instinctively, reaching to massage the blood back into her burning arm, but the recruit’s soft grip remained firm. Off kilter, she struggled to right herself from her prone position. Shifting his grip, he helped her to her knees. He waited until she settled before gently pushing her fingers away from her palm once more and exposing it to the sky. His thumbs smoothed the base of her wrist in a gentle caress.

A wave of bitter anger crashed over her at his false kindness, twisting and mixing with her fear. It was almost worse this way. Steel weapons glared at her from every corner of the plaza. It was one thing to accept that you had been beaten by a superior force, it was another to know your subjugation was caused by your own cowardice.

‘ _I am alive_ ,’ she told herself fiercely. She looked up.

Dark blue eyes stared back, intense and searching. She would be damned before she gave him or anyone the satisfaction of a reaction. She cemented her face into a mask. Pain burned a path up her arm as Ser Alrik dragged the blade across her naked palm. She pressed her lips to a hard line, gasping in through her nose, but kept staring through the pain, defiant.

‘ _I am alive,_ ’ she insisted, glaring at the recruit. He stroked the sides of her hand. The recruit’s eyes seemed to pour recognition as Ser Alrik pressed a small vial to the cut. Her vision blurred. She blinked away the tears viciously, keeping her eyes locked forward, steeling herself against the empathy and understanding in his gaze. She would not fall to this delusion, there were no allies among the templars.

‘ _Indigo_ ,’ the thought broke in. ‘ _His eyes are indigo_.’ If she were home she would paint them.

If she were home. A fresh wave of tears came thick and fast. They rolled unchecked down her cheeks as she blinked them away militantly. No. She couldn’t go there, not here, not now. Lena’s breath stuttered and her throat grew tight as she fought to keep her sobs contained. Abandoning her pride, she sought refuge in the comfort of the recruit’s gaze. She dove into it, riveting onto him until the still depths of his eyes were all she could see.

The recruit never blinked, he only gazed back steady as an anchor, and squeezed her fingers as if to say, “I’m with you.” She clung to the false comfort as her last vestiges of pride crumbled.

“Done,” Alrik said, lifting the vial from her wound. Bright red caught the corners of her vision, but she was drowning in blue. Her fingers quivered as liquid dripped past her elbow to the ground. The recruit’s eyes couldn’t save her from the sliding slimy feel of her own blood running over her skin.

She retched, visions of the limp, pale bodies of the children drained by the blood mages of Darktown swimming in her mind. Her heart started to race as her blood poured out with nothing to stop it.

‘ _Put it back, put it back!_ ’ she thought uselessly. Gods, how many nightmares would the Gallows hold?

‘ _Typical of the Chantry to be so fundamentally pharisaical,_ ’ her father ranted in her memory. His voice echoed inside her skull. It was an old hurt. He’d been gone years now, but he would have broken to know the fate he'd fought so hard against had taken his daughter.

“Ruvena, walk this mage to the girl's dorms. She can wash up there,” Ser Alrik commanded a female guard.

The recruit holding her wrist curled Lena’s fingers gently over her wound and released her hand. She tucked it to her chest, retracting around herself and letting her soft skirt absorb the precipitation of her face and palm. She rocked silently in the shelter of her arms. ‘ _Only cold water on blood stains_ ,’ her mother’s distant voice warned.

' _Mother_ ,' she closed her eyes against the image of her bloodied form. There was only only a dull ache where there should have been torrential grief. She was so tired.

She knew once the shock wore off, despair would come to roost. ‘ _I am alive_ ,’ she plead with her waiting anguish. ‘ _I_ _am alive, let that be enough_.’

A female recruit hauled her up by her intact sleeve to her numb and buzzing feet. She stumbled as shudders wracked her body. Any illusions of control she had were utterly shattered.

“Hugh,” Ser Alrik addressed the recruit with the soft hands and sea deep eyes. Auburn hair flopped into his face as he stared at his hands, stained red from the ritual. “You clean up this mess. I’ll order a full inspection of your gear this evening, so be prepared to justify whatever crap happened here today.”

As he turned to Ser Alrik, Lena saw the first clear emotion cross Hugh’s face. A flash in his eyes, lips pulled against teeth. A clench of his jaw. It was gone in an instant, but for a moment he was  _enraged_.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, composing himself as he met her gaze. Whatever answers he’d sought at their meeting, it seemed he had found them. His eyes followed hers, desperately transmitting some unknown truth until the recruit Ruvena dragged her past the pillars and out of sight.


	2. The Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gallows falls to chaos.

_Lowtown Unknown, Kirkwall 9:37 Dragon_

 

Lena whipped around the corner, skin catching on the jagged edge of the stone wall. Her feet pounded, her chest burned with smoke.

Fire on her left. Where were the stairs? There was only ash. She gagged on the heat-choked air trapped by the winding alleys of the city and looked to the night sky in desperation. No stars shone through the thick haze to guide her.

She offered up a useless plea, ‘ _Please h_ _elp me_.’ The Gods had never listened before.

Screams ricocheted off the towering walls

“Era'harel!” someone shouted, “Mana! Ma halani!” The voice cut off with a shriek, replaced by thunderous laughter.

She dashed away from the sound. If she had found the alienage, the docks couldn’t be too much farther.

Lena cursed the godsforsaken city. The twisting paths of Kirkwall were designed to prevent slave riots, to prevent escape. Tonight they were doing their job.

Heavy footsteps ground metal against stone to her right. Boots or claws? Both were deadly. She tore on blindly as the smoke transformed what was once her home to an unknowable wasteland.

‘ _Where is the sea_ _?_ ’

A wall emerged from the smoke, cutting her off. A dead end.

Three walls, no doors, no windows. No distinctive rubble offered a clue to her location. Maybe the factory district?

She waded through the billowing dust back into the maze of streets, but froze when she heard the plodding metallic scrapes approach the alley. She slunk back against the wall, cowering in the haze. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stifled a cry, fighting her body as it begged for oxygen.

The footsteps grew closer.

‘ _Hide, flee!_ ’ her brain screeched. Her hands shook, wishing for a staff.

‘ _Stupid girl. You gave yourself away dashing around like that. You have doomed yourself, and no one can save you._ ’ Despair sighed.

Rage flared. ‘ _Turn and fight! Let them_ **_try_ ** _to take this life from me!_ ’

The veil was too thin. She pushed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the demonic whispers. It was futile. She moved her hands to her stinging eyes instead, pretending for a moment she was safe. She couldn’t afford to ignore her ears tonight.

Loose stones rattled towards her as her pursuer kicked them free. In vain hope she crept back towards the charred remains of a barrel, taking careful steps to not upset the scattered debris.

‘ _Not like this, oh please not like this_ ,’ she begged the silent Gods.

“Lena?” a shout echoed.

‘ _Templar!_ ’ She whirled.

On the other side of the veil Rage laughed hungrily. She screamed as her fury poured through the fade, fueling the spell that erupted from her hands. A crescent of lightning arked wide. Rubble exploded into sparks and burning fissures formed where it struck.

“ _Murderer_!” she screamed, aloud or in her head she could not say.

Her chest heaved. Her hands tingled, filled with magic that begged to be released. Beyond the veil Rage pressed close. She gasped in the smoke.

‘ _Yes,_ ’ Rage seethed. ‘ _Murderers, all of them! They deserve to die, burning and terrified. Let me help you. Let us avenge them!’_

" _Go away,_ " she hissed. Every part of her body trembled. Of all the horrors this day had brought, she would not let herself succumb to that fate. Too many friends had fallen to evil this day to allow the demons such an easy victory.

Nor could she forget who brought them to that desperate place. She squared her shoulders and peered into the smoke. The Gallows had stolen many things from her, but she would not allow it to steal her soul. Never again. She would not look away. She would not be cowed by fate's harsh gifts.

Lena’s legs threatened to give out as she stalked forward to examine the destruction she had wrought. Her mind shied from the task.

Please let it be no one she knew. Or would not knowing be worse? She braced herself for the guilt. Already she knew that deserved or not, the weight of taking life in anger would follow her to the end of her days.

‘ _You’ve become exactly what they feared_ ,’ Despair murmured. She didn’t bother to respond.

At the entry to the crossroads, smoke cleared to reveal an armored figure examining the rivets of his leather gloves. Although smoke stained, the metal was barely tarnished.

Her hands fell to her sides. How? 

The templar marched towards her and all her rage dissipated to pure exhaustion. If this was the end, so be it. At least she might die in peace. She had fought her best and could face Mythal untouched by sin. She stumbled forward, sagging as her body finally caved to the demands of the day.

‘ _I mean it’s a fucking annulment after all,_ ’ she thought with a last bite of bitter humor. ' _All the mages are supposed to die_.'

The templar rushed towards her. “Lena,” his voice cracked as he grasped her shaking arms. He threw off his helmet.

It took her a moment, but she found his eyes in the dark. “ _No_ ,” she whispered. How many times had she seen those eyes, deep and grave, staring across the Gallows?

His touch brought back the memory of a dull knife and gentle hands. But there was more. Tension with other guards interrupted too many times to be coincidence. A quiet presence halting what could have been an inescapable advance. Rumors he’d left the order, willingly or not, due to sympathy for the mages.

Those eyes bored into her now. Not a scratch marred his face. It couldn't be, not after all this time.

“You,” she gasped.

“Hugh,” he corrected, wry.

“You knew,” she accused. Everything else was a sucking void, there was only Hugh, standing with the same look in his eyes as that first afternoon in the courtyard. “All this time and you knew that you were, that we were…” 

“I-” He looked away for the first time. Ashamed as he had every right to be. He may not have been able to hurt her, he may have even thought of himself as her protector in the worst moments, but he'd caged her just the same.

“I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t be." He turned back to her, eyes like whirlpools dragging her down. "But didn’t you? Couldn't you feel it?”

Had she? Hadn't she felt this pull from the very first? Felt her eyes raise unbidden whenever he was near? Even now his gloved hand felt right in hers, solid in a way she'd never felt. She wanted to tear the Gods from their prison and howl at their cruelty.

Another scream cut through the night, too close to be ignored.

He squeezed her hand. “Come with me.”

A wise girl might have hesitated, but she was already caught in his undertow. The ground shook with a distant blast and they were running.

Buildings flashed by. “Don’t look,” Hugh said, pulling her away from a collapsed stall. She caught a flash of crimson, a whiff of burnt meat before they plunged down a stairway.

Countless turns later he stopped. Keeping hold of her hand he skimmed his fingers over the brick beside them. Lena scanned the alley for any pursuant who had followed their dash through the flames. A shallow draft carried the rank of rotting seaweed from below. The ocean had to be close.

Hugh jerked forward without warning, pulling her through a hidden doorway and they were in an elevator.

“Can you cast grease?” He gestured to the fraying pulleys.

She sucked in a breath to steady her nerves. It was dangerous to cast, the fade was volatile now. Demons pressed hard on the veil. They crowded in as she reached for the magic.

' _It’s a trap,_ ’ they whispered. ' _Kill him first. He can't protect you. You can use him! You need more power. Only we can keep you safe._ ’

Hugh’s hand was steady in hers. He wasn't even watching her, already turned to unlock the crank. He was a fool to trust her so easily. She might have killed him in a instant, demons weren't bound by the laws that protected him now.

Lifting her free palm, she spread oil over the wood. She moved to add it to the crank as well, anything to muffle the noise.

“Good idea,” he squeezed her hand.

' _Burn it all down!_ ’ the demons howled.

She held the ropes steady as he turned the lever, counting the turns to drown the vile voices in her head. Slowly, the wooden box ground to a rattling halt. Together they pushed the door open and stepped into the tunnels of Darktown.

“What about the docks?” her whisper rang loud in the still air.

He shook his head. “It’s too dark to avoid the rocks and they’ll check the ships. You’ll have to go through the mountains.”

They pressed on. Only fools walked at night in Darktown, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard it this quiet. The silence was stifling, thick and sticky. Poor ventilation left a permanent mugginess in the tunnels that now reeked of iron. They shuffled forward blindly, flinching when gravel rattled away from their tread.

A patch of moonlight from an overhead grate illuminated their path. Lena whimpered into her palm.

Bodies were piled in the gutters, clothes black with blood. She choked on a sob when she caught the glassy gaze of a boy strewn over a doorstep. He couldn’t have been more than four.

Hugh pulled her forward, turning her face away. “It’s over now, we have to keep going.”

"They're monsters!" she seethed. She couldn't keep the words inside. She felt her palms growing hot.

Hugh had to feel it too, had to see the flames dancing between their fingers, but he never flinched.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was thick as though with tears. "I'm so sorry, Lena. I never thought. I never thought it would come to this, I swear."

"You never thought?" She tore her burning hand from his grip. "Of course you didn't! How could you possibly understand?"

She knew she was climbing towards hysteria, but she couldn't stop. "You think because you were one of them that you understand? You can never understand, you can _never_ understand!"

"I-" he started.

Shouting and the telltale clank of armor approached from the west. Hugh turned to her, his eyes wide with panic. Faster than she could move, he'd unsheathed his sword. He shoved her to the ground, jerking a blood soaked sheet over her body. Bending to her head he brushed a palm over her eyes, closing them.

"Please," he whispered, lips brushing her ear. "Trust me please. I'm so sorry. I'll lead them away. There's a cave that opens to the mountains two lanes south of here. Go when we're gone. I'll tell them it caved in, distract them. There are spiders. Ditch your robes the second you can. Please, _please_ be safe."

He pressed a small sack full of lumpy objects to her stomach and stood.

Something thudded near her shoulder and her eyes flashed open. He'd stabbed her bloody shroud.

"Alright here?" an approaching templar called. Lena's eyes snapped shut. She laid still as possible and prayed that putting her safety in the hands of a man she barely knew would be the right choice.

"Yeah," Hugh said, suddenly full of the swagger and bluster so typical of the order. "All clear here. This one was giving me a little trouble. Trying to make it to the caves I think. Pity she didn't know they were already caved in."

The four men laughed and Lena shuddered.

' _You could take them all, teach them to fear,_ ' Pride crooned. Beneath her shroud she counted her own heartbeats.

 _'Alive, alive, alive,_ ' they said. She would not fall today.

"I've cleared all the way back to the elevator," said Hugh, jerking his sword from the ground. "I think she was the last of the stragglers. We should move up into Lowtown if we want to do any good."

"You don't have to ask me twice. If I never come back to this festering pit again it'll be too soon," a templar replied.

They turned as one and marched back towards the elevator. Lena peeked as they rounded the corner, but Hugh didn't look back once.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Era'harel: Demon-mage; similar to an arcane horror  
> Mana. Ma halani: Help me  
> Masal din'an: A threat, meaning unknown


	3. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.

_Storm Coast, Unnamed Cabin 9:40 Dragon_

 

Lena gathered the last of the fallen blossoms into her skirt. The mountainside was full of blooms this time of year, she would have an ample supply for her paints and dyes before the trade caravans rolled through the valley in the fall.

She marched through the underbrush, the dew soaking into her dress and clinging to her legs. She shivered in the morning air. She would have to start some tea before she hung the stems to dry.

Five steps from the house she heard a distant twig snapping. Someone large and unused to outdoor travel was climbing the hill.

Lena dropped her skirts, flowers scattering in the grass and dashed for shelter of the woodshed. Her magic jumped to her fingers, subdued but ready. Her's was the only place for miles in these woods, and no one but templars would come looking.

She peered from the shadows all senses on alert for the partner. Hunters were never sent out alone. She had been lucky these three years, but she knew that she would have to kill both knights if she were to remain free.  

A bumbling shape came into view. She narrowed her eyes. The man wasn't dressed in the gleaming armor she'd expected. Instead he was clothed in leather and looked ragged, as though he'd traveled in the clothes for some time.

She watched from her place as the man picked his way through the brush, stumbling often. Leaves clung to his auburn hair. He was no woodsman, that was certain. Still, it could be a trick to lure her out. She stayed hidden until the figure was nearly at her door.

It was only when the man bent his head and began gathering the fallen flowers that she stepped out.

"You."

The man looked up, mouth twisting into a smirk.

"Shut up," she said, before he could speak.

"Lena," he returned, covering his hand with his mouth. His eyes were blue as ever, swimming with mirth or grief, she couldn't tell.

"Why are you here?" she asked carefully, keeping the wall at her back and sparks dancing on her hands. "Did your friends send you to come fetch me after all?"

"What? Maker, no! Lena, I came to see-" He fumbled in a satchel at his side and extended a small vial towards her. "Here, take it. It's yours."

When she didn't move, he tossed it to her. The glass bottle bounced and rolled but did not break, splashing it's crimson contents across it's walls.

"Keep it, break it. I don't care. I'm sorry I know I could have broken it before, but I had to see-" He swallowed, seeming out of breath. "-I had to make sure you were okay."

"You _had_ to do no such thing," Lena said cooly, extinguishing her sparks and bending to retrieve the phial.

"I.. You're right." He nodded slowly and clasped his hands. "I didn't have to, but I wanted to. And in doing so I put your safety at greater risk. I'm sorry."

Lena rolled her phylactery between her palms. Such a tiny object, so delicate. She dropped it to the stone and crushed it beneath her boot.

To her surprise the bottle gave little resistance, and soon her blood, captured so long ago, had sunk back into the earth. Tiny sparkling shards were the only remainder of the thing that had inspired so much fear and destruction.

She looked up and Hugh was smiling.

"So that's it," he said. "You're free."

She stared at him. He offered her the flowers he'd gathered before she stepped out of the woodshed.

"The Divine is gathering a grand council of mages and templars. They're going to try to address the issues that have come up in recent years. They say she's quite sympathetic to the mage cause."

Lena snorted. "News to me. I don't hear much in the way of current events up here, but I'd stay away all the same."

He nodded slowly.

When she didn't offer any further commentary he turned to go. "I'll be off then," he said. "It was.. It was good, better than you know Lena, to see you safe. I wish you well."

"Hugh," she called.

He stopped.

"It's a long way down the hill and it looks like rain out. I was about to put the kettle on. You can wait out the storm up here before you go," she offered.

Hugh didn't move. He just watched her, his eyes matched the swirling, moisture soaked clouds above them.

She moved before she could be sucked into their whirpool gravity. "It's a one time offer. Stay or go, it's your call," she said firmly and turned back to the house.

It was only when she opened the door that she realized it was futile.

She heard the soft "Oh," escape his lips as he followed her over the threshold. Lena would have almost felt embarrassed if it weren't for the reverence she saw shining in his eyes.

"Shut up," she said. "Tell me more about that council."

He smiled again and she was sunk. Every corner of her house was painted with hundreds of indigo flowers, and every one of them matched his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending! Or bittersweet, or maybe just sad depending on how you read it. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
